Wild Eyes (Rose Hill, #2)

by Elsie Silver

The sun is shining, the lake is sparkling, and there’s another fucking tourist on the side of the road trying to get a selfie with a bear.

“Sorry, what’s your name?” I ask without glancing back at the boy. He clears his throat, like there might be something stuck in it, then his voice comes. It’s quiet and surprisingly sweet. “Oliver.”

I’m no open book, but it seems as though all West needs to do is look at the cover to know something’s wrong. He sees past all the vibrant colors, all the shiny foiling. It’s like no matter how pretty the cover is, he knows that if he opened the book, the pages would be blank.

“No, fancy face. Those”—he points at my face, finger flicking from side to side—“are wild eyes. The eyes of a woman who just chose fight over flight. Don’t smother that. Keep ‘em and you’ll come out on top. Trust me.”

“You think I’m going to stab a bear?” She rolls her eyes like my aversion to violence is childish. “I’ll teach you how. You go for the eyes or mouth.” “I don’t think I’m equipped to fight off a bear. I’d just let him eat me.” “Skylar, that’s quitter talk. Plus, my dad would be really sad if his favorite singer died.”

“Breathing is overrated. I’d rather be drowning in you.”

“I would bid on you every time,”